


You've got no style

by sas



Series: Femslash February Prompts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lydia Martin, Cora playing babysitter, Everyone Is Alive, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Femslash February prompts, Fitting room, RST, Tumblr Fic, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sas/pseuds/sas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mstoker asked: Cordia "That is a hideous shirt you should totally just take it off" au</p>
<p>One of my Femslash February prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've got no style

To human ears, a curtain screeching across a rail is annoying; to werewolf ears, it’s downright painful. So when Lydia pulled the curtain of the cubicle back for what felt like the fiftieth time, it took every ounce of strength Cora had not to snarl.

Lydia smoothed her hands over the blue blouse she was wearing, and asked, “what about this one?”

“Gross.”

Lydia scoffed and returned to the fitting room cubicle, making sure to close the curtain as noisily as possible. From behind it, she called to the brunette. “Why are you even here?”

Cora, idly playing with her phone, checked that no one was around before calling back. “Derek said we have to keep an eye on all of you squishies until this sorceror leaves town.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Squishy. Like, ‘fragile and squishy humans’.”

Lydia emerged again, wearing a deep plum dress. If Cora didn’t find her so annoying, so insanely vapid and contrary, she would’ve thought the colour made her skin look bright and smooth, she would’ve thought it emphasised the stark contrast of her skin and her hair, would’ve thought it made her eyes look somehow more green. She didn’t think any of those things.

“One: I am neither squishy or fragile. I work out, a lot, and Allison has been training me. Two: I’m not human. What about this one?”

“Boring.”

“You are the worst,” she huffed before retreating behind the curtain again.

“Not exactly having the time of my life, Princess.”

“So leave.”

“I can’t.”

“Then for fuck sake be useful.”

“I am. I am guarding.”

“No, I mean—I’m stuck.” Lydia’s voice had become much meeker, and Cora knew she was embarrassed. That did not, however, stop her from barking out a laugh.

“You’re stuck? Can I Instagram it?”

“You don’t even have Instagram,” Lydia sounded harried. “Just get in here and help me or I’ll put a Mosquito alarms all over your bedroom.”

“I would just find them and then hurt you,” Cora started. Whatever words were supposed to follow died in her throat. As she stepped into the cubicle, she saw Lydia in her underwear, a black dress pulled tight and tangled in her arms, which were held above her head and covering her face. Her slim body was mirrored infinitely around the room; it took Cora seeing her own face, slack-jawed and dark-eyed, to make her tear her eyes away. She suddenly felt nervous.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to help me. This isn’t exactly comfortable.”

As Cora struggled to get her breathing under control, Lydia struggled to remove the dress, which seemed to be caught around her shoulders. As she moved, Cora noticed the tensed muscles of her stomach, her upper arms, her shoulders. She mentally kicked herself for looking like she was, for appreciating, for thinking ‘definitely not fragile’.

She stood in front of Lydia and placed her hands on Lydia’s upper arms, causing the redhead to still her movements. She gripped the bottom of the dress and tried to move it upward, but it was too tight.

“Try and pull your shoulders more into the centre,” Cora said, and she hated how nervous it sounded.

Lydia did as she was told, and as Cora gave the dress another upward tug, it came free of the smaller girl’s arms. Cora dropped the dress to the ground, too distracted by the smirk she was faced with to really care. Lydia’s eyes were twinkling darkly, and her grin unsettled Cora. Despite the height disparity, Cora felt as if the redhead was bearing down on her, still very much in her space.

“Why do I suddenly feel like you’re the wolf?” Cora attempted to put as much defiance into her voice as possible, but she felt somewhat powerless in the situation. Her resolve cracked, finally, as she let her eyes flicker from the cool, green ones facing her, to Lydia’s lips.

As if that had been exactly what Lydia was waiting for, she retreated, turning quickly and pulling her own shirt back on. Although her hair covered her face, Cora could still make out the dark smile she wore as she faced the mirror.

Feeling slightly like someone had knocked her across the head with something heavy and smelling of Chanel, Cora stepped out of the cubicle, and retook her seat.

* * *

Cora walked around Lydia’s bedroom. She didn’t understand how one person could have so much  _stuff_. She picked up a picture that was sitting on the desk, amongst a myriad of tiny bottles and post-it notes. In a black frame, there sat a picture of Allison and Lydia, laughing about something. They both looked young and healthy, so much happier than the girls Cora knew, and that made her feel uneasy.

Lydia disturbed her train of thought by calling from the bathroom, “What time is it?”

“About an hour after we were supposed to leave.”

“Funny,” she deadpanned. “I’m just getting dressed.”

“What the hell have you been doing for the last hour then? How long does it even take you to get dressed? Nothing should be this complicated.”

“Looking as good as I do takes a lot of preparation. I have to find the right clothes to compliment my hair, my make up, my natural beauty.”

Cora scoffed, “Whatever, all your clothes are terrible.”

"You’re only saying that because you’d rather see me in my underwear again."

Cora choked slightly. She felt both embarrassed and confused. She definitely didn’t want that, she would know if that was something she wanted, wouldn’t she?

As Lydia walked out, fully dressed and obviously ready to leave, Cora simply groaned, “Dream on princess.”

* * *

Cora has a love-hate relationship with Lydia’s derisive tone. Her snarky hardness is one of the things which, despite everything, drew her to the redhead. When Lydia uses that tone with other people, it amuses Cora, impresses her. However, when it is being aimed at her, she feels a disconcerting combination of thrilled and defensive.

That was precisely how she felt when Lydia adopted her power-stance (hip popped, one hand resting on it, face strong) and said, “And you say my clothes are bad.”

Cora couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She surveyed her outfit and returned her gaze to meet Lydia’s. “It’s literally black jeans and a grey shirt. How is that bad?”

"I’m sure the jeans were perfectly fine before they were washed four thousand times and started to fall apart. The shirt is the real issue. It looks like it used to belong to Derek."

"Whatever."

"Take it off." Lydia took one long step, landing squarely in front of the werewolf, again managing to seem taller, larger somehow.

"What? Fuck off."

Cora made to turn away from the situation, but Lydia caught her by the wrist.

"You are not taking me to a party wearing that."

"I am not _taking you_  to a party. You are going to a party and I’m making sure you get there in one piece, and survive the night.”

Lydia let her hands fall against Cora’s hips, and her fingertip traced along the hem of the problematic shirt. She had closed most of the space between them, so that when she half-whispered, “Take it off,” Cora felt her hot breath against her cheeks, her lips.

She swallowed the lump in her throat to ask, “Or what?”

Lydia took a second to let her manicured eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline before diving forward, pushing her whole body against Cora’s, pushing back until they hit a wall. Their lips met, and there was no hesitancy, just push and heat and want from both of them. Cora couldn’t help but gasp into Lydia’s open mouth. She pulled herself back, only to begin pressing wet kisses to the creamy white skin of Lydia’s neck column, even undoing the top buttons of her blouse to reach her collarbone. Lydia, in turn, slipped her small hands under her shirt, moving them upwards at a burning pace. When she reached her arms, she breathlessly ordered, “Off.” Cora pulled her lips away from the soft, warm flesh to obey and then dove again for Lydia’s lips. Lydia kissed back for a second before pulling away, that wolfish grin on her face.

"There. Now put on that white one, and let’s go."

Cora felt colour raise into her cheeks. Rage flooded through her. She opened her mouth to call Lydia any one of the words which came to her mind. Before she could, Lydia once again draped herself across the taller girl’s body and began placing small, lingering kisses across her collarbone.

“Oh, don’t worry,” another kiss;

“there will be more of this,” she moved to kiss just under her jaw;

“so much more,” she placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth;

“but right now,” she kissed the werewolf, slow and lingering and filled with promise, for just a moment before she removed herself and finished, “we have a party to attend.”


End file.
